


The Wounds Of War Cut Deeper Than Eyes See

by Excaliburinthelakeonpage394



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Actually a lot of hurt, And a lot of comfort, Court Sorcerer Merlin, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I seriously enjoyed this, I should post more often, Kind of hurt, M/M, Morgana isn't in the picture, Set some time after season 4, Short One Shot, The Knight's POV, The Knights rock, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, but you could imagine she's still alive and this is just set in those inbetween years, could be read as abusive relationship but it's not meant that way, this was a lot of fun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 16:27:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,490
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8899276
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Excaliburinthelakeonpage394/pseuds/Excaliburinthelakeonpage394
Summary: "'They’re fighting again.'
  
   They sighed as one.
  
   They were always fighting. Especially before a battle.
  
   The Knights turned, looking over the fire and across the camp, to find their two (closest and most trusted, yet most infuriating and stupid) friends, barely visible, in the shadows where the forest started to thicken.
  
   'They always fight before a battle.'
  
   On those rare occasions Merlin and Arthur thought to seek privacy first, or Merlin cast a spell around them that granted a certain privacy for the pair, the Knights still saw the fight. Which, often, was worse than simply hearing it.





	1. Prologue

“They’re fighting again.”

  They sighed as one.

  They were always fighting. Especially before a battle.

  The Knights turned, looking over the fire and across the camp, to find their two (closest and most trusted, yet most infuriating and stupid) friends, barely visible, in the shadows where the forest started to thicken.

  “They always fight before a battle.”

  On those rare occasions Merlin and Arthur thought to seek privacy first, or Merlin cast a spell around them that granted a certain privacy for the pair, the Knights still __saw__  the fight. Which, often, was worse than simply hearing it.

  “The wounds of war cut deeper than eyes see.”

  They saw it in the redness around their eyes. In the clenched fists. They felt it in the wind as the air grew thin; on the worse days, when Merlin lost a little control of his magic. They saw it in the way Merlin lay a bedroll far from Arthur, often far from anyone. They saw it in the table Arthur overthrew and the marks on his knuckles from punching anything (and everything) solid.

  “They worry for each other, that’s the cause.”

  However, the tears were always wiped and kissed away. Clenched fists stayed, but around clothes and limbs; pulling each other close and holding on for their dear lives. The air always warmed, losing it’s icy edge (even in the heart of winter). Merlin may sometimes begin the night akin to where he spent them years prior, but by the time the sun showed it’s face, the Knights knew they’d find the two embraced tightly, like youthful lovers once more. The tables would be righted and Merlin would always mend what he could.

  “Does that really mean they have to shout and scream at one another though?”

  Harsh words were always replaced with soft promises, uttered against warm skin. Distrust and worry were shoved aside to make room for battle plans, for an extra promise they would see each other again after.

   _ _They always fight before a battle, but they never go to battle fighting.__


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The actual one-shot:

 

“They’re fighting again,” muttered Percival, nodding his head towards the edge of their camp, over the fire and behind the other Knights.

  Sure enough, just off from the camp, just before the trees started to thicken, were Arthur and Merlin.

  “They always fight before a battle,” Gwaine grunted, as if Percival was stupid for pointing it out. Really the Knight was just pissed; pissed Merlin sought arguments with Arthur, pissed Arthur didn’t see Merlin purposely pushed him, pissed that when Arthur lost his temper he took it out on Merlin, but above all, pissed that Merlin took it.

  “They worry over each other,” Elyan said simply, but he sneaked glances over his shoulder at the pair.

  “Well obviously,” Lancelot (ever the romantic) tutted, “the two are hopeless. Besides, fighting is part of who they are.”

  “It’s not that,” Leon murmured, in a tone that made the Knights look at him. “The wounds of battle cut deeper than the physical wounds,” he continued, “Arthur, of course, blames himself for every death of his men, and for letting it come to war at all. Merlin…” he sighed deeply, eyes fixed on the fire, “Merlin tries not to let anyone - least of all Arthur - see just how much the killing affects him…”

  They all fell into silence, remembering the countless times the sorcerer’s nightmare fuelled screams had awoken them. After checking the men were safe and okay, they’d stand outside the two’s tent, or pretend to be asleep, while Arthur muttered sweet nothings and soothed Merlin back to sleep, clutching him tightly.

  “You’d think there’s be a spell for that…” Percival mumbled, glancing up to see the two were still arguing.

  Lancelot raised his head, eyes wide as he blinked at Percival.

  “What, Lance? What is it?”

  “You might just be onto something, Perc…” he clucked, sitting up straighter.

  “Did you steal some of my ale?” Gwaine frowned.

  “You bought ale?” Percival snorted quietly, turning to him.

  “Of course!”

  “I’ll be right back,” Lancelot muttered, paying no attention to the other Knights.

  They watched as their friends stumbled forward, wandering off towards the woods.

  “Um… Gwaine, you may want to check your stash…” Elyan chuckled.

  “Is he okay? Do you think?” Leon asked, concern etched on his face as he watched Lancelot stumble across the camp.

  “I guess we’ll find out…” Elyan mumbled, the only other Knight paying any attention to Lancelot - Gwaine and Percival were still joking.

  “Would you guys __stop!?__ ” Leon snapped, chucking a boot at them. Between Gwaine being Gwaine, worrying over Lancelot, the battle soon to commence __and__  Merlin and Arthur were __still__  fighting.

  After Percival and Gwaine stopped fighting (the others pretended they didn’t notice the sex eyes they were shooting each other. Leon made a mental note to offer Elyan and Lancelot to share his tent - they will __not__  want to be in that tent) the Knights relaxed into a comfortable silence. That is until they were reminded of their woes.

  “YOU KNOW WHAT ARTHUR PENDRAGON!?” Merlin’s voice carried across the whole camp.

  All the Knights heard the pain in his voice - it hurts that they’ve heard it enough to recognise it. Gwaine’s hands clenched on his knees and Leon heard his teeth grinding together - __Gwaine__  heard the tears in his best friend’s voice.

  “WHY DON’T YOU JUST SAGGER OFF TO YOUR __ROYAL__ TENT AND SPEND THE NIGHT ON YOUR __ROYAL__ ASS ON THOSE __ROYAL__ SHEETS! I’LL JUST SLEEP OUT HERE ON THE FROZEN GROUND LIKE THE SERVANT I AM! WHY EVEN PRETEND I’M MORE THAN THAT!?”

  The Knights had given up on, failing to, be discreet, they watched as the two, seemingly unaware that the whole camp was watching them, with tired eyes.

  Arthur leaned forward, red in the face but calm enough to utter something to Merlin. All the Knights had their own guess what it may have been.

  Whatever it was, it obviously didn’t have Arthur’s intended response; Merlin screamed at him and slapped him. The sharp crack sounded across the whole camp - the men who weren’t already watching the scene, immediately were. Everyone knew the temper Arthur could wield; they were all proud when he turned away, face as red as his family chest, hands turning just as red as he clenched his fists so tightly Leon thought he saw blood drip to the floor.

  The second the flaps of Arthur’s tent fell shut, Gwaine was up and across the clearing, sinking to the floor next to where Merlin had fallen. Even from where he was sat, Leon could see Merlin’s shape heaving with sobs.

  A minute or two later - when the stifling silence of the clearing had been replaced with the the buzz of quiet chatter from the men - Gwaine led Merlin back to the circle of Knights.

  The warriors stifled a gasp at just how wreaked their friend looked, and fought the simultaneous urge to drag Arthur out here to apologize.

  Their sorcerer’s eyes were pink and puffy; his irises flickering dangerously between blue and gold. Accenting one cheekbone was a shallow cut; a nice match to his split lip.

  Percival suddenly fought to remember if he had those earlier - from the fighting.

  “S-sorry,” Merlin sniffed as Gwaine helped him down to a log - his legs were shaking ferociously. “I lost my concentration… the silencing spell wore off…”

  “Merlin, we don’t care about that,” Gwaine insisted, Merlin’s hand still clasped in his.

  “Are you okay?” Elyan asked softly, leaning forward slightly.

  “Y-yes,” he nodded, “I’m fine. I just… just need to cool off a little.”

  Merlin missed the look the Knights shared. No one believed him.

  Percival stood, his arms crossed over his chest. “Merlin, look at me.” After a moment the now seemingly tiny boy raised his gaze - Percival’s breath caught when he saw the newly formed tears. “Be honest. Did he hurt you?” the towering Knight gestured to his own cheek and lip.

  The tears spilled over and it was only Merlin’s hand on Perc’s arm that stopped him (and the other Knights) from storming into the main tent and punching the-

  “No!” Merlin cried, shaking his head frantically, tears flying everywhere, “He didn’t- It’s not his fault, honestly!”

  Gwaine glared at him, anger rolling off him like heat from the fire, “ _ _How__  is it not his fault?! Merlin, I swear to __ale__ , if you don’t tell us what happened- and you tell us now and don’t you dare leave out one single thing.”

  Merlin sat back and swallowed, ignoring the constant flow of tears down his face. “It… I can’t even remember what started it…” he shook his head (the Knights all shared a similar seething look) “But-! But this-,” he gestured to his face, “-this was __not__  his fault. I lost-… lost control…” he hung his head in shame.

  “What do you mean, Merlin?” Leon asked gently. Over the years the two had grown as close as the other Knights are to Merlin. The sorcerer had noticed the Knight hadn’t gone to begrudgingly comfort a forming Arthur - where in previous he would have faced the Prince’s temper in an attempt to comfort him. In this particular situation, Leon had no such desire to face Arthur (his temper was dangerous on the most usual days; it was volcanic when Merlin had been stoking the fire) and was currently too focused on Merlin to _ _think__  about Arthur - __he’d probably go check his King hadn’t punched his armour and broken his hand in a fit of anger, but later, after they’d both had a chance to cool off.__

  “It __wasn’t__  his fault. I swear. My… my magic got out of hand…” Merlin’s voice had gone small, he refused to raise his eyes, “It needed reigning in, but I…I couldn’t __reach__ it…” He raised his head just enough to catch Percival’s eye and he flinched when their gaze met, “ _ _he helped!__  Really!” Merlin was sobbing again and Perce felt a sting of regret and guilt, in a breath he was at Merlin’s side. “He held me down, but I fought back without meaning too…I got the cuts from fighting him… I would have hurt people otherwise! It’s bad enough that he got hurt… I’m __sorry!__ ”

  Percival and Gwaine both wrapped an arm around Merlin each, replacing the sobs with a small, fond chuckle.

  “Merlin,” Leon spoke gently, “What else? Because that was much earlier.” Leon remembered overhearing Arthur telling Merlin ‘it’s okay, you’re okay. No you haven’t hurt anyone, everything is okay’ in the unmistakable tone he frequent used to comfort the sorcerer.

  Merlin stumbled over sounds, unable to complete a word.

  “We know you were fighting about the battle, and the war,” Elyan offered.

  They were all crowded around Merlin now. The sorcerer had told them - one drunken night after an infamous, great Camelot feast (this one in honour of the anniversary of the coronation) - that being surrounded by well-intended friends, helped more than they could know; the Knights remembered the way Merlin had eagerly snatched their hands up and placed them on his body (shoulders, chest, back, knees, hands) while giggling and slurring his words slightly.

* * *

 

__‘See? See! Do you feel it? All warm and fuzzy and-’_ _

__‘I think that’s the wine talking.’_ _

__‘No! No! See, see it *hic* it um… what’s the word… it__ regenerates _ _my magic!’ he giggled again, then suddenly his face turned morose, ‘can you not feel it? It tingles! It’s nice! It tickles!’__

_After the roaring fire in the hearth behind them had unexpectedly spurted out a few golden sparks loudly, they all felt a slight buzzing under where their hands sat, a warm tingling from Merlin’s skin, as if his magic was a gently burning fire spreading through his veins._

__‘__ Merlin… _ _’__

 _ _‘You__ can _ _feel it! You can feel it, right? You can feel it!’__

* * *

 

  It was times like this they remembered such nights, such details, and try to __subtly__  help comfort Merlin. Really he knew exactly what they were doing; he was inexplicably thankful.

 

Eventually, just as they all knew, Arthur exited his tent slowly, looking akin to the prey he often hunts. The Knights all sit squarely, waiting for the apology they know their King, leader and friend will begrudgingly give; not because he isn’t sincere in his regrets, but because his pride barely lets him be so open so publicly. A great task Arthur always overcomes - despite how hard it may be.

  In the end, the very end; when the fires are starting to die and the odd man is already asleep, most turning in for the night and wishing sweet dreams to their fellow soldiers, praying for victory in the morrow in the silver light of the moon. In that end; none but the Knights are privy to hear the soft words, laced with promises, that the two share.

  Slowly, almost reluctantly, the band of friends dispersed, hovering just close enough to hear __those words__. The words they’d swear held a blessing in every syllable. To the Knights, their very presence in the air, in the dark before a battle, equals the rest in their minds and bodies, equals the victory that undoubtedly follows. What a weight __those words__  hold.

  “Do you…” Arthur whispered, a small, fond smile on his lips as raised Merlin’s chin so their eyes met, “...remember the first time I kissed you?”

  Merlin beamed, the memory flooding over him.

  “We go in alive-” Arthur muttered.

  “-we come out the same way,” Merlin finished, brushing hair from Arthur’s eyes.

  “Later,” Arthur uttered against Merlin’s hand, “we will see each other again later.”

  Merlin nodded, eyes shining not only with the promise, but also with a certain sadness only the promise of battle brought.

 

* * *

 

 

After the battle is by far the worst. Worse than the fight before the battle itself, worse than the aftermath of that fight, worse than the true battle, worse than the aftermath of the true battle. Both rush around, praying to the watching stars and moon that the other is alive and well. However, the Knights always watch, with warm hearts and ever fond smiles (no matter their own wounds) when the two finally, inevitably, find one another; the moment they touch each other they are dragging another to them, finally, fiercely connecting their lips for a moment before embracing so tight the Knights __know__  breathing is hard, yet they would not relent, grasping each other until they are forced to part. __That__  moment, when the two are finally sure the other is safe, is worth all the torment that makes it.

  The two may drive the Knights close to physical violence more often than not, but never do the warriors find themselves - not for one cursed moment - doubting the promise they made to follow their Kings to where-ever they may end up (be it a snow storm, lost deep in a forest, the battle field or their tents).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey look at that! I finally posted something!  
> [this A/N is so long holy crap I am sorry D: ]
> 
> I didn't tag it or make it too obvious because it was just a little thing in my mind, but in this everyone knows about Merlin's magic and he's not only Court Sorcerer but also King. Arthur and he married not long after he was appointed Court Sorcerer (in my head they had a slight problem working out if he could even be both Court Sorcerer and rule but it all worked out fine and fluffy in the end) and they rule side by side in an epically awesome way (did I really just say that) like the husbands they are and should be.
> 
> I got the idea from S4:E5 "His Father's Son" (specifically, from the bit where Arthur's watching the Knights and Merlin and they catch the King looking, then the Knights ask _Merlin_ if Arthur's okay and it just set the ball rolling: "the Knights worry over their King" and that turned into "the Knights worry over their King _s_ )  
> I'd also very recently watched S3:E13 "The Coming Of Arthur: Part 2" and that shows ('do you remember the first time I kissed you') as well as the Adam Sandler film I Now Pronounce You Chuck And Larry (see: 'we go in alive-' 'we come out the same way') and it was only really while I was typing it up (I hand wrote this last week) that I noticed it...
> 
> The Leon/Merlin bOTP is thanks to another ficlet I wrote last week (writing of which was interrupted to write this little piece) and thanks to the artist Whimsycatcher on tumblr (they have some amazing Leon & Arthur childhood friendship pieces and I just adore them every time I see them)
> 
> This may tie in with another fic still currently forming, if it does I'll probably put it in a thing together. I may also start uploading some of my other short ficlets and put them in a thing - just so I'm posting things and feel like I'm actually getting work done.
> 
> Oh! And you may be wondering what happened to Lancelot! That was a happy mistake on my part. It leaves space for me to add to this if I wish. But bottom line: the Knight knows more about magic than the others (becuase of having known about Merlin's magic the longest) and so when Percival mentioned there ought to be a spell Lancelot thought of (this is where it's a little sketchy in my mind) spirits of the old religion, or pixies in the forest or something and basically went for a little wander to find them and ask them about a special healing spell for his favourite sorcerer. (It's not mentioned, but he comes back before Arthur apologises and I haven't decided if he had any luck in his adventure, but as I said it's a big enough crack that I could open it right up if I so wanted - which I may if I need a fic-between-fics)
> 
>  
> 
> As I said, I _do_ have a few other stories planned/written/partly written (and anyone who's read some of my other stuff, But It's Not In Vain has another chapter on it's way, I just have 5 versions of it and can't pick one. And my Merlin episode re-writes are NOT abandoned, but there aren't any new chapters on their way, I'm sorry.)  
>  HOWEVER, I'm in the middle of moving house (for the second time in a month) and am supposed to be starting Uni in January, so I'm making no promises. But know that just one comment telling me what you did or didn't like or even just saying 'where's more!' really helps motivate me. (Kudos are also like hugs and hugs are pretty freaking awesome so keep those coming too please!)
> 
> Come talk to me on tumblr or just look at my mess of a blog or come scream into my ask box. (I'm also thinking about taking requests so if you have any feel free to ask, I just can't commit to anything right now, but it'd be super nice to write something for someone if you do have any requests!)
> 
> I'm going to shut up and leave you be now.  
> Have a good new year and chinese new year and Dongzhi (my family doesn't celebrate Christmas)

**Author's Note:**

> This is basically the next chapter (or rather this is the original idea, the next chapter is the story that was born from this) but it didn't fit in the story or separate, hence the prologue.


End file.
